My tongue snakes out, wetting my lips in anticipation. I watch intentionally as the liquid is sucked up by the syringe and instinctively stick my arm out on the table, welcoming the bite of cold the metal offers.
The needle pierces my skin, and I relish in the euphoric feeling as the power rushes through my veins. Instantly, I feel the effects take place. The numbness dissipates, and the raw hunger for violence boils down to a simmer until I can barely feel it beat beneath the surface—just a touch out of reach.
My shoulders slump with relief. “It’s amazing what this stuff can do.” The words come out airy as the serum soaks in. “Another.” It would be foolish to ignore the tolerance I’ve built, but as 452 injects me a second time, I can’t find it in me to care.
There have been new developments over the last decade, fine-tuning the serum into something reliable, usable, especially after the mix-up that led to the first failure.
“What’s the problem?” I bark, entering the lab and peering down at the subject thrashing against the table.
“The wrong serum was administered—by accident, of course,” 452 admits, not looking guilty in the slightest, which under these circumstances, I believe. We have a lot of pea brains within, but he’s not one of them. He was handpicked for this position based on his knowledge and expertise.
“How is this possible?”
“Well, Commander, having both be the same color was bound to cause an issue.”
I grunt with irritation. He’s right. I know that, but there’s a system in place, protocols to follow, so thisdidn’thappen.
“Well, how’s it responding?” But as soon as I ask, the fae bowsoff the table, wrist and ankle straps the only things keeping it bound.
“There’s nothing to base it off of. She’s the first subject.” The weight of his words ring true as aspects of her body begin shifting.
“Keep it away from the others, monitor closely. I want updates on the hour,” I instruct. Glazing over the vials haphazardly around the lab, clearly panic erupted when they realized the mistake. “And change the colors,” I mutter over my shoulder.
That was the first and only time the mix-up happened, and the result of subject 1 was unfortunate. Completely useless.
“It’s time we raise the stakes with our special guest. Get the equipment set up for a transfusion.” 452 gives me a curt nod, and I turn to leave but not before adding, “And take Katerina’s access away.”
“Harrison, so nice of you to join us,” I coo. His pathetic, miserable existence stays lying on the table, unmoving. Not that he has much choice in the matter—limbs bound by brown leather straps, another matching around his neck.
But some eye contact would be nice. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.
“I didn’t want it to come to this,” I state. Although, that’s not entirely true. The hope for him to come around was still there.
“Whatever you’re up to, it’s not going to work.”
“He speaks!” My hands clap together. “Was that so hard? I did figure all the screaming and wails of pain leaving your cell made you mute.” He doesn’t reply, which is fine. He’ll be singing like a canary soon enough.
452 rounds the corner, coming into view. “Everything’s ready.”
“Spectacular.” It’s been a while since I’ve been on this sideof things. After about the first hundred subjects, it became too much for me to handle on my own, and at some point, I had to render control. And truth be told, I needed to enlist someone to handle the advancements. Against his will at first, but eventually, he came around.
Ideally, this treatment would’ve been for 763—he’s the perfect specimen. But since he’s otherwise occupied, his transfusion will be at a later date.
Walking up to Harrison’s tray, I push at the food and wheel him into the adjoining room. Harrison’s eyes stay closed, like he’s unbothered or has accepted his fate. It’s bizarre to think he would go to such measures to protect her. Even now, she’s out of his protection and running about our land. My land. And despite their history, I have full faith in 763 that he’ll bring her back and do what needs to be done. Everyone else is collateral, a means to an end.
Without her, everything I’ve worked so hard for would be for nothing.
I lock the wheels once I have him in position. His eyes squint open, adjusting to the bright-white light above. Unable to turn his head, he attempts to take in the room, only moving his eyes side to side. The moment he catches sight of our guest of honor, his pupils grow wide, “What the fuck isthat?”
“That is the start of our future.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Subject 763
I’m getting sick and tired of this fucking wild goose chase. Scratch that, I crave the chase—thehunt. However, it’s the idiot who won’t stop yapping that’s making this whole task unbearable.
“I haven’t been outside the camp in nearly a decade.” Camp? He’s acting like it’s somewhere we all sit around a fire and sing songs about the fates. “It’s crazy how kingdoms look so different from each other, but they all still work. It’s like we’re traveling to completely different realms, but it’s all the same.” He drones on, acting like some fucking grove nymph who gets hard at the sight of tree bark. “Not even just the scenery, the changes in the weather—”
